Shot-Callers
by Kestrel1
Summary: A night out with the Brotherhood...


Deciding in a split-second not to use his power, Pietro found himself wearing the drink he had bought the girl sitting across from him. As she got up and stormed away, he heard laughter break out from the table in the corner. Frustrated, Pietro threw the cup to the floor and walked back over to the table. "Dammit," he said, slamming a twenty down on the table. Lance took it in the blink of an eye.  
Todd belched and Fred inhaled another burger. If they were having any worse of a time they would jump out a window or something. Lance and Pietro had traded the same twenty dollar bill back and forth about eleven times, putting money on who could get with a girl faster. The competiton had broken down to who could get with a girl at all, and most recently, to who could go the longest without getting dissed and dismissed.  
Lance and Pietro agreed on a girl sitting four tables away. Mainly because she was the only girl in the place that they hadn't tried yet. Lance fixed his hair, which had also seen its share of projectile beverages that night, and walked over. "This is gonna be good," Todd said. "Yah," Fred barked in between devouring spare ribs. In less than five minutes, the girl slapped Lance and left the table. Pietro awaited his twenty bucks.  
"Hey," some guy in a leather jacket said to Lance as he left the table. "You and your white-haired buddy been hittin' on every girl in here, and now you gone and made my sister upset." Before he could explain himself, Lance was getting whooped. "Think we should help 'im out?" Todd asked Pietro. "Nah," he casually replied, "He deserves to get his ass kicked a little first." When Lance hit the floor, Pietro was about to stand up when two hands pushed him back down.  
"You tried to pick up my girl, punk," a guy even bigger than the one that had beat up Lance said. Fortunately, Pietro ducked his punch and tried to tackle him. But the much larger man flattened him before he could pick up enough speed to move him an inch. "What about these two clowns?" The man's friend asked, pointing to Todd and Fred. "Fat Bastard over here'd rather stuff his face than go after our women," he sneered, "And this faggot can't do nothing."  
The guys turned around and walked away, but one of them was picked up like a rag doll by the Blob and hurled through a table across the bar. Toad spun the other man around by pulling his shoulder with his tongue, leaped off his chair and planted his foot into the man's chest. "You watch who you call a faggot, tough guy," Todd said to the guy on the floor clutching his chest. "I didn't know you could do that," Fred said, observing the wimpy Todd Tolensky's superhuman leg strength.  
For safety reasons, Todd and Fred were asked to leave, but they just waited outside for their friends. Every girl now avoiding them like the plague, Lance and Pietro had nothing to do. "Where's my twenty," Pietro asked as they prepared to leave. "Hold up, I lasted longer than you on that last one," Lance protested.  
"You got dropped in five minutes!"  
"And you went like four and a half!"  
"Alvers, enough joking around, cough it up."  
"Piss off, Maximoff, its mine."  
About to go punch for punch themselves, the two guys caught someone out of the corner of their eyes that could put an end to their dispute. There, at the far end of the bar, was Rogue.  
"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"  
"C'mon, man, you gotta draw the line somewhere."  
"Dude, I thought you wanted your twenty back?"  
"I got my pride."  
"Double or nothing."  
"You're on."  
The two boys decided the basic rules of their sudden death wager, and Pietro walked over and sat down next to Rogue. She did a brief double-take when she saw who it was, but quickly ignored him. "Hey," Pietro said. "What do you want," Rogue said, staring a hole through him. This isn't going well already, he thought to himself. He had absolutely nothing to say. She turned her back on the Brotherhood, and fought against them regularly...and she wasn't exactly talkative, either.  
"Can I buy you a drink?"  
"Can you take a hint?" Rogue snapped back. "You've been strikin' out all night!" Pietro frowned. She was right, of course. Sure, it was fun to bet money with his friends, but the sad fact of it was that he couldn't get a girl to save his life. "And yer talkin' to yourself," she added. "Oh," Pietro said. He suddenly started laughing. "What's so funny?" Rogue hissed.  
"I live with Lance, Freddy and Todd," Pietro said. "It's just us. We pay half the rent, Mystique pays the other. But we never make our half because we go out and bet on stupid crap like this and buy a drink for like every girl here. And forty bucks wasn't worth me coming over here and you telling me that I've been striking out all night."  
Rogue felt a little bad for him, but it was his own fault. Stupid boys, always did that kinda stuff. "Can ah buy you a drink?" Pietro looked at her like she was crazy. "I guess." When the drinks came, Rogue offered an uncharacteristically kind toast. "Hope you learned yer lesson," she said, gently knocking her bottle against his. She took a sip and almost choked on it when Pietro stood up, spun around and pointed at Lance.  
"Kiss my ass!"  
"How the HELL did you do that?"  
"Let's go, Mr. Double-or-Nothing."  
Lance handed over the cash mumbling some profanity.  
"And..."  
"And...you're the man," Lance said quickly and in a low voice.  
Rogue, completely confused, now realized what had happened. "Why you little..."  
"Hope you learned your lesson," Pietro called over his shoulder to Rogue as he and Lance left the bar. 


End file.
